And I'm Okay
by Denaliyasha
Summary: It took all her years of training not to shiver as he ghosted his fingers over her shoulder blade and tugged gently on the edge of the towel to see the bottom of the bruising. Jules POV on Sam in the scene at the end of Attention Shoppers.


Disclaimer: Not mine. I just play with them every now and then.

A/N: So I just started re-watching Flashpoint, and watched the last three episodes then went back to the earlier ones. It was a little odd. But I loved the end of "Attention Shoppers," and I wanted to do a fic about what Jules was thinking when she turned around and let this guy pull down the edge of her towel (after not smacking him for being in the locker room in the first place) and reassure himself as to the fact that she was alright. Considering the end of "Between Heartbeats," there was probably something going on there. So here's what I thought. All dialog taken directly from the show. I wasn't reinventing the wheel, just narrating the process. I will also probably do one from Sam's POV on the same scene.

**And I'm Okay**

Ouch.

It was interesting, she noted with some detachment, that bruises often didn't hurt until you either poked them or looked at them.

This one was big enough she was going to be feeling it the moment she stopped keeping it flexible, but she probably shouldn't have looked at it in the mirror. The heat from the shower had lulled her into a false sense of painlessness, apparently. She grimaced, trying to adjust the towel so she could see how far down her back the developing colors extended.

"Hey, Jules..." She pulled the towel a little tighter as Sam ducked his head to the side, doing her best not to look as flustered as she felt.

"Um, welcome." A brief thought of how cute he looked embarrassed crossed her mind before she squashed it, but she couldn't quite stop her fingers from playing with the hem of her towel.

"Sorry. I, uh, I knocked." He grinned sheepishly and glanced around, obviously looking for a distraction so as not to have to meet her eyes. "This a curling iron?" He picked it up off the counter.

"Sam!" She wasn't going to defend the girly stuff she kept in the locker room. She wasn't. Also, the sooner he got to the point and left, the sooner she could relax.

"I, uh, I just wanted to say, nice save out there." He shrugged a little. Had she wished he'd meet her eyes earlier? Now he wouldn't look away, and those eyes of his were more than a little intense. "Didn't know you could fly." He paused there, the smile from his attempt at humor fading off his face. "It was... a long four seconds before we knew you were okay."

"And I'm okay." She didn't know who she was reassuring, him or herself.

"Smashed hard against the side of that tower."

"And I'm okay." This time, she was definitely reassuring him, trying to ease a little of the strain behind that half smile and oddly serious expression.

"You want a second opinion?" The question tried to be a joke, but failed. She studied his eyes for a second, then turned slowly so he could get a look at the mass of purple that was her shoulder.

She heard him take a few steps forward, then had to draw on all her years of training not to shiver as his knuckles ghosted over her shoulder blade and tugged slightly on the edge of the towel, baring the rest of the mottled bruising. "How does it look?" She didn't turn back around; she couldn't have met his eyes yet anyway.

"Like a double bacon burger."

The tension broke, and she smiled at him over her shoulder. "Thanks."

"Anytime." He grinned back, and she found herself relieved that his eyes were clear again. "So we're going to the diner for breakfast. You hungry?"

Her phone started ringing before she could even begin to think of an answer. It was a good thing, she told herself. Scott. She was supposed to go out with Scott, not be shivering around Sam.

"You can bring, uh, whathisname..."

"Scott."

"..Scott, if you want." He immediately turned to go, and he was in the doorway before she could make up her mind about who she'd rather spend the morning with: Scott, or the team.

"Are you riding with Wordy?" Maybe he wasn't. If she'd have to drive, she'd just go home, she promised herself.

"Minivan express."

"Will you save me a seat?"

She turned to look at herself in the mirror as he left, savoring the smile he'd flashed on his way out. She was going to be the butt of so many jokes for the next few weeks, she was going to be stuck in the command truck until she could raise her arm and handle recoil without wincing, and the overprotective men on her team were going to be watching her like a hawk for a while, but damn if that smile didn't make it all worth it.

She didn't even notice that the phone had stopped ringing.


End file.
